no pressure....

No matter how old you get you still experience 'first times'.

As you grow there are your first steps, first teeth, first kiss, first love, first job, first hot curry, first breath of warm air as you step off a plane in a hot country, the first time you smell a fragrant flower......

I am about to experience a first next year.
My first art exhibition.


It has been in the planning for a good old while and now it is really going to happen......
The rooms are booked, the cabinet to display my work is reserved ... except I don't have any work yet, because it is still in 'the planning'.

The ideas are in my head and on scraps of paper that litter my computer area... as I get inspired I write a memory jogger...


The theme is 'Unsung Heroes'
& one of my scraps of paper simply says 'bloggers'

a dusty old friend.....

I came across an old friend a couple of weeks ago.

We were first introduced in the early 80s through my boyfriend at the time. This old friend & I had some great times together but have not seen him for years . You know how it goes.... we travel through life, have new adventures, find new friends and lose touch with old ones.

It must be at least 15 years since I have seen him and when we met up again I found he had not changed a bit only got dustier oh yes he did seem a bit heavier than I had remembered........






Meet Zenit EM my first 'real' camera..............

Can you believe he weighs a kilo? He is cumbersome but did take some great photos at the time. He went everywhere with me holidays, motor racing .. Zenit was my constant companion.

No fancy camera bags them days just a nap sack from the Army & Navy Stores

I do feel so awful neglecting him (he photographed my life for about 10 years) so I started to clean him up ... snagged a clasp at the side and the back flew open........ low and behold he had a film inside him.
If the film hasn't decayed after all these years being in Zenit in the loft then I reckon I have blown it by opening the back... however it must be worth a couple of quid in Tesco just to see.
I will let you know how I get on...........

bring out the best china.....

I defy anyone to say that they have never at one stage or another in their lives been wheeled out to visit an elderly relative.

I remember so well in my younger years being taken to visit, whether it be my Gran or Nana or Auntie, and being presented with the 'best china'.

The fine bone china was brought out like a royal event (I always used to wonder how much dust lay at the bottom of the cups!).

A small china cup on a saucer and a side plate with a slice of cake, or in my Grans case a Dundee biscuit.
You would sit there with the best china dithering, trying to balance cup and saucer and plate on your knee........trying not to drop the cup that no adult human could hook their finger through...

Then there was the tea... it was always luke warm, very milky (made with sterilised milk) and 'so weak it was a fortnight'... as my Mum describes it! The tea bag purely waved at the cup only ..It would make you gag!! But you had to drink it and when offered a second cup ..dither again between 'it may offend to refuse' and 'maybe the second cup may taste like tea out of the pot!'

After a recent experience of this whilst visiting my elderly God Mother I got to thinking ... I have just the china tea set to inflict on the youth when I am elderly.

Bought in auction in Kent a few years ago for £1..... Vale bone china.. It is very retro and bizarre..........
I will be serving 'peely wally' tea (earl grey of course) with skimmed milk (white coloured water)

from beyond the...

I am a keen family historian. Yes it is another obsessive thing I am involved in.
So far I have discovered family tree direct lines back to the late 1700s, who were professors of languages in France and London, Beer and wine merchants, teachers, land owner farmers in Wales , poultry keepers, carters, and railway engine drivers.

It is quite a revelation that most of my ancestors where educated way back, as they did not put their mark as an 'X' when required to sign at marriage or as in my gg grandfathers case when living in France in 1835 to sign for the birth of one of his daughters....

I have discovered illegitimate births including my g grandmother who bears the same Christian name as me (as did her mother, mother-in-law and sister-in-law).. my she was one big problem child to find! Her mother gave birth to her and then married later someone else who brought
her daughter up as his own, and she took his name. That did take some unravelling.

Also the birth of another family member who died after being drowned in the Thames aged 5. I discovered that his 'mother' was not his mother. His mother was his 'mothers' sister who was aged 15 when she had him and then sent off to Canada for a better life, whilst her sister brought him up as her own....

So that preamble gets me to the point of this post. I spend a lot of time in cemeteries searching and photographing ancestors.
My the Victorians knew how to push the boat out when their loved ones left... handing out death cards and building huge monuments in their path.
One of the best (yet scariest) cemetery I have ventured upon was Camberwell Old Cemetery.
Part of it has been given over to nature... that is where my gg grandfather, gg grandmother, their daughter and son-in-law (son-in-law that was not married to the daughter buried there.. ).
Many people over the past 100 odd years must have planted rose trees as they had grown so wild

I visited Mitcham Cemetery recently to find one of my name sakes .. great cem.. great monuments.. my name sake had a bamboo stick to mark where she lay ....oh come on!! so I attached her photograph to the bamboo stick.. gawd a gal trussed up so good in 1860 deserves so much more than a bloody bamboo stick!

I visited the local cemetery where I used to live not long ago. I used play in there as a kid.. my teen thinks it is spooky... I think it is a magical place and holds many works of art.

and there was this grave that had this simple line

Grow young again